


Beyond

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Holy Orders [3]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen, PoE Inktober, ancient Engwith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: She believes in her duty, she truly does; she believes in Engwith’s duty to the world; she believes Thaos will have to do his duty, too, when he grows up – but she can no longer agree with it.





	Beyond

**Author's Note:**

> (PoE inktober, prompt 13: Beyond)

She tiptoes towards the small bedroom and stops at the threshold. Adra and Copper – her son’s wurm and her cat – raise their heads warily, but recognize her scent and the touch of her mind and go back to sleep. Thaos does not wake; she makes sure of it, gently cradling his thoughts in hers. Her little boy…

Not so little anymore; he has already started the second stage of education, and he will be old enough to start accompanying Verran on some visits to court. King Iestin’s daughter is just a few years older, so maybe in time they could become friends – as much as that is possible between a ruler and a servant.

Meliora looks at her son, letting love fill her and pour over, into his dreams, make them warm and carefree and happy. She feels guilty for being away from home so often – but she is a seer, and has duties elsewhere, and following one’s vocation is the way of Engwith. Now, knowing the truth, duty is what they believe in, what they worship, what they build their lives around.

She made peace with that a while ago; she was born in a society going in a certain direction, and she followed, first without awareness and understanding – though that came very quickly – and then, as she learned, she accepted everything. What else was there to do? Generations made effort and sacrifices and worked their fingers to the bone and their souls to dust in search of answers that would make the world a safer, brighter, better place. Having found no answers, they started writing their own.

Before their plans become reality, she will already be – not old, perhaps, but old enough to have no regrets – maybe except for those few she already has. She has respect and renown; she has tasted love, even if duty made it grow cold; she has a family. Now she wishes the same for her son. But Thaos might not have time for that.

Meliora was certain she accepted everything, but now, looking at her sleeping son’s face – in the light of the adra lamp, it seems older, and for a moment she can imagine him as a young man he will become - too fast, as all children grow – and with a sudden, piercing clarity she knows she will never be able to make peace with _that_. She believes in her duty, she truly does; she believes in Engwith’s duty to the world; she believes Thaos will have to do his duty, too, when he grows up – but she can no longer _agree_ with it. Now, looking at him, she is hit by a wave of overwhelming longing that she might never see him grow up, fall in love, hold his newborn children, watch their first steps, teach them to read.

She does not walk over to the bed to kiss her son goodnight – they will meet in the morning, at breakfast, and she does not want to wake him. She just gently touches his mind with hers. Such a bright star, his mind. In time, it will illuminate the thoughts of many people, she is certain. And perhaps blind a few other, should he have to.

No, she decides. She has served faithfully, always doing her duty to Engwith before her duty to the family – as she was bound to do, as she swore to do; she deserves something in return. Iestin will listen to the empire’s most acclaimed seer; few people know the real extent of her powers, and how she uses them, but the royal family is watching over the all the preparations, and they know. And maybe, if she is lucky, princess Woedica will be interested in having her own advisor, like her father the king does.

Thaos stirs and his brow furrows, but Meliora immediately sends a soothing thought and dispels the nightmare before it even begins. No shadow will fall over her son on her watch.

* * *

 

Iestin listens to her attentively, as he always does, but it is Woedica she pays more attention to. Meliora’s gaze is on the king, but she can feel the princess’ curiosity. Nothing more, though; no attempts to peer into her thoughts, and that is what worries her, for she knows that Woedica has enough power to be a soulmistress; she was the one to assess her abilities when the princess was still a child.

Granted, there are some talents running in the royal family no one knows anything certain about. It is said that Iestin can judge a person with just one glance, and that he is never wrong; she has seen enough to actually believe it. Perhaps Woedica inherited that from her father.

Meliora finishes speaking, bows her head respectfully, and when Iestin nods in return, she looks at the princess. Woedica is watching her; ah, there it is! – the slightest, barely visible  frown of concentration on the girl’s face.

“What do you think, daughter?” the king asks, smiling. Apparently, he is in a generous mood today.

“That star,” Woedica speaks, her voice both sweet and eerie, like adra chimes. “It’s your son’s mind, isn’t it?” Not waiting for confirmation, because she already knows, the princess turns to her father. “I want it,” she says simply.

Iestin looks into his daughter’s eyes. They are exchanging thoughts, Meliora can tell that much, but cannot hear a single word. After a moment – a breath or two, no more – the king turns towards her.

“It is agreed, then. If your son proves worthy, he will stand by my daughter’s side when the time of Ascension comes.”

Meliora bows. But when she straightens and addresses the king, her words are much less formal. “Thank you,” she says, not hiding her relief; now she is not the holy seer, expressing gratitude to her king, but simply a mother, thanking another child’s father for a chance to add more years to her son’s life.

Iestin gives her a tired, jaded smile, like one parent to another, carrying a similar burden. “And if he really is as bright as my daughter saw him in your thoughts, then perhaps he will stand by her side even after that.”


End file.
